Scars
by Brooklyn Nightingalle
Summary: Bellamy is hurt after a huntig trip and Clarke had to replace his bandages. ( Two-shot Bellarke )
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys** ! I'm French, but thanks to " AudreytheAwkward " ( an awesome beta who read back after me and corrected all my mystakes ) i'm able to publish the translation of "Cicatrices" in english. **Enjoy :D**

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Attack. Wound. Blood. Claw. Disinfect. Operate. Remove. Blood. Disinfect. Stitch up. Wait…

Clarke was anxious, impatient, and put under a lot of stress. She hoped that the wound wouldn't get infected...She had told him to stay inside his tent, and she really expected him to listen to her advice for once. This guy was so stubborn, but in Clarke's eyes, his stubbornness was his greatest quality. This idiot had been distracted during a hunting trip, and he had ended up with a claw deeply stuck in his chest. He should be happy that his lungs hadn't been punctured, and that none of his vital organs had been damaged. The claw was stuck between two ribs, making it incredibly difficult to remove. Clarke's mother was nowhere to be found when he had returned to Ark camp after the accident, bleeding profusely. Clarke had been unable to let him suffer such agony. She had started treating him the second she saw his face. It had been pale; so pale that it terrified her. The fear of losing him outweighed anything else. She had to do something, or at least try to.

Her hands trembled with fear as she worked. Despite everything her mother had told her about medicine, she still doubted herself. Even when her mother returned and looked over her work, assuring her that everything had been done perfectly, Clarke still couldn't stop thinking that if anything went wrong, it would be her fault.

The complications. What if the wound became infected? What if she didn't disinfect it well enough? She'd only been able to find a bottle of alcohol, which she had poured onto her patient's t-shirt, which she'd cut away to operate on him. Sometimes, Clarke truly wished they could have access to the same medical supplies and technologies they'd had on the Ark, just for a moment. All of that made her really anxious.

Damn it, how long did she need to wait before she could see him? The waiting time killing her, so, she tried to occupy her mind and thoughts, to avoid thinking of her patient. She told herself he was a patient, anyway. Pretending he was exactly like the others, and not one of the few people that she could trust in the world, helped her to not worry or overthink.

Clarke knew she was probably arriving an hour earlier than she was expected, but she didn't care. It wasn't a random guy after all.

It was Bellamy.

She walked all around the Ark camp for several minutes, with a hesitant step, sometimes quick, sometimes slow. She saw what they called "tents"; piles of scraps from the Ark, woven together to host small numbers of people. In this camp, she felt deeply uncomfortable, and even less safe than she had before the Ark had come to earth. She knew the rest of the 100 felt this way as well. The camp was too similar to the Ark, when she was still floating in orbit around the Earth. The Ark reminded them of their old life; their moments passed on their lousy cells, treated like social pariahs. The camp they had built on their own during their initial days on Earth was so much better than this one. They manufactured it with their own blood, and all the natural resources, such as wood or mud. The Ark camp was cold and hard, made out of meaningless metal parts. Despite the electrified fence that was encircling the totality of the Ark camp, Clarke didn't feel any safer here than she had when she was still behind the fortifications of the wood wall, as easily destructible and rickety as it had been.

She knew she had reached Bellamy's tent as soon as she noticed his blood-stained pants, drying on top of the roof. His pants were easily recognizable; no other man in the Ark camp had pants with so many holes in them.

Clarke didn't knock against the door before entering Bellamy's tent, but maybe she should have. Bellamy was stretched on his bunk, his arms crossed under his neck, in a position of relaxation, but that wasn't what made her cheeks flush. Bellamy wasn't wearing a shirt; she had cut it off before the surgery. He wasn't wearing pants, either. They were on the roof. The only things he was wearing were his underpants and his socks.

He looked at her, surprised at her presence.

"Already here?" he asked, arching one of his eyebrows.

Clarke sighed slowly, but it wasn't Bellamy's fault.

"Well, I have already finished to see how my others patients are doing," she began.

"What's wrong princess? You want more blood?"

"Let's just say that I wish my mother had let me assist her during Mike's amputation, instead of delegating me to change the dirty bandages."

"I thought you enjoyed taking care of everybody's…"

"I do!" she cut him off. "But I would also like to learn some more challenging operations. Knowledge like that could mean life or death on the battlefield. And If she won't let me practice, or at least watch and observe new things…" she trailed off.

Bellamy uncrossed his arms and braced himself on the bed, trying to push himself up.

"What the hell are you think you doing?" she demanded, rushing to his side.

He groaned in pain, grimacing.

"Bellamy!" Clarke scolded.

She put her hands on his shoulders, and she helped him to sit on his bunk.

"Idiot! I told you not to stand up," Clarke mumbled.

"I'm fine, Clarke," Bellamy tried to convinced her.

He wasn't fine, but there was no point in telling Clarke that. Honestly, why should he complain about it? He only need to stayed strong and act like it was nothing for a few weeks, the way he always did.

"Don't lie to me. I can see how much you're suffering, just by looking at you."

He took a deep breath.

"Why are you here, Princess?"

Of course he knew why she was in his tent, but he wanted to change the topic.

"Your bandages. I have to replace them as often as I can."

Clarke turned her head toward her first-aid kit. "And I need to check the wound. I have to make sure it hasn't gotten infected, or worse."

"Don't worry about me," he protested.

Clarke took her rolls of sterilized gauze bandages and a pair of scissors, under the careful gaze of Bellamy. She also took the dry wipe and a small bottle of alcohol she use to neutralize bacteria. She turned back toward Bellamy, then she realized that the only way for her to remove the dirty bandages was to sit behind him. She couldn't ask him to move or to stand up because of his condition. They stared at each other awkwardly, before Clarke decided to act, instead of look at him.

She went down on her knees, behind him –right after depositing her first-aid kit at the foot of his bunk. She put her cold fingers on his burning back, and he shuddered at her contact. She observed the goose bumps on his skin, before slowly removed the first bandage.

Taking them off wasn't easy; every time she had to undo another bandage, she had to press her breast against his back. She continued to pull the bandages, while Bellamy tried to stay as still as possible, until all of the bandages were gone. Clarke shifted her position and bore down just in front of him. She forced herself to stay focused on his wound instead of looked his abs.

It shouldn't be distracting her. Yesterday she had literally ripped his shirt off and had already seen him bare-chested. Slowly, Clarke put her finger to his injury, tracing the contours of the wound and scrutinizing the reactions of Bellamy's face. His gaze didn't leave her during the whole ordeal. While he was trying to hide his pain, tightening his teeth, Clarke tried to eliminate the glimmer of worry into her eyes. But it wasn't fear. At the second where she saw the wound, she understood that his injury wasn't infected.

She wasn't feeling fear; she was feeling desire. She touched him and she liked it. The sensation of his warm skin under her finger was weird, but enjoyable.

"So...I guess that's the usual way to check if a wound is infected or not? Because, I may have some other injury..."

"I bet you do. Do you want my mother to come and check this out?" sneered Clarke.

He muttered something like "No need" and Clarke removed her finger from his torso. She leaned forwards, to reclaim her first aid kit. The neckline of her shirt swept down as she bent over, but she didn't mind.

"The good news is that the wound isn't infected," she stated.

"Told you."

"And the bad news is that you will have a scar," she continued while she wet the wipe with alcohol.

"One more or one less, that doesn't change anything much." he shrugged.

Clarke examined quickly his chest.

"Well, it's not that bad," she commented, trying to sound formal and uninterested.

"All my scars aren't...physical," he admitted.

She frowned and he explained:

"Every time I have lost somebody I loved, or every time something have touched me...That leaves a mark."

"Like the memories that even the time cannot erase?"

He nodded his head in agreement, then Clarke started to sponge his torso with the alcohol in an awkward silence. She thought about what he just said. She knew Bellamy was a human, as capable of feeling emotions then her, but she never saw him touched by anything. He always seemed so calm and in control of his emotions. She put down the wipe, took the bandages and gently wrapped them over the wound. Here again, she had to press her breast against his torso, in order of cover his injury correctly. It was very uncomfortable because she almost had to sit on Bellamy's lap. He didn't protest. When she ended her task, she could feel the red cover her face in embarrassment, but she tried to ignore it before she give him some instructions.

"Ok. If you don't touch to your bandages, everything should be fine. But, in case something goes wrong, you call me and you don't try to replace them by yourself. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear."

Clarke picked up her stuff and she was ready to go when she remember a last piece of advice.

"Oh, and next time, please, put a shirt on. Or a pants."

He smiled at her, then he retorted, "Don't pretend you didn't like what you saw, Clarke."

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Hope you like it. The second part will arrive this month. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys!I'm still French, but this time it's "WinterViolets" (She's great) who corrected my mystakes. Hope you like it!

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"You will never wear a shirt, will you?  
It had been three weeks that Clarke was coming to switch his bandages, morning and night, and yet he was always shirtless. At one point, she even wondered if he watched her to know when he should take his shirt off, or if this wasn't just a series of coincidences. At the sound of Clarke's voice, he turned around and looked at her.  
"What's a shirt?" Answered Bellamy, his eyes amused while the edges of his lips twisted into a tiny smile.  
Clarke waited until Bellamy looked away from her, then she put her first-aid kit in front of his bunk. She removed the same jacket that she had always worn since the 100 arrived on the Earth and she found herself wearing a sleeveless top. The tents were much warmer then the temperature from the outside and as she had insisted that Bellamy's tent was heated by several degrees, moreover because of his convalescence period, she tried to dress in an appropriate way.  
As he seemed still occupied, Clarke glanced at his torso which was muscled and tanned. No shirt? She could live with that.  
She heard Bellamy chuckle and she stopped looking at the fine and sharp lines of his torso, red covering her face in embarrassment.  
"Wanna share your thoughts, princess?" He asked, teasing her.  
Clarke swallowed with difficulty. She couldn't deny that Bellamy had an important panel of assets -six to be exact- but she would die before she admitted it out loud.  
"I was just wondering where your bandages are" noticed Clarke, proud to not give him reason.  
If his ego was already sufficiently inflated to the point that he exhibited his body all over the place, she couldn't imagine the next step.  
"Where are your bandages, Bellamy? Asked Clarke again, more curious than worried.  
It has been days that his wound was almost healed, but she didn't want to take the risk that the injury got infected because of her neglect. Moreover, wrapping up Bellamy's torso with bandages gave her a sense of power. She felt like he depended on her, and it was incredibly good to know that she controlled the game. Well, that and touch him without giving any reason except "I need to change your bandages".  
"I removed them..."He answered absent-mindedly.  
Immediately, Clarke froze, an expression of incomprehension etched in her face.  
-What? Why?  
She didn't want that somebody else, or Bellamy, pull out his bandages. It was her thing!  
He inclined his head, his way of saying " Really?", before he moved closer towards her, suppressing the distance between them in one step, until their noses come into contact and the heart of Clarke beat frantically.  
"Clarke. We both know that I didn't need them anymore."  
His warm breath crushed into her skin, still cold because of the low temperatures outside. He was right and Clarke knew it. He didn't need it, but she couldn't admit that she had wasted some medical supplies. And for what? To stop feeling guilty when she touched his olive skin because with the bandages, it seemed more medical.  
"I didn't know that you had medical skill" says Clarke with surprise while she crossed her arms on her breast.  
She wasn't going to take the risk that he realized her interest for his abs, still well-designed after three weeks of physical inactivity.  
He arched an eyebrow in front of Clarke's effrontery. God, she was stubborn!  
"Clarke..." He murmured, forcing her to uncross her arms so he could have access to her hands.

He rolled his calloused finger around her wrist and he stuck the palm of her hand on his scar.

"See? No need to worry about nothing."

Clarke hardly heard him. While she traced the scars with her index finger, she realized that his skin was rough but pleasant to the touch. Why did having him so close to her and covered with scars excited her so much? She could hear the constant and repetitive pounding of Bellamy's heart and she wondered if he always beat so fast. Clarke shook her head to chase the disturbed thoughts that made her confused.

"That didn't prove anything, Bellamy. When somebody is suffering from an internal haemorrhage, no-one can detect it with the naked eye until it's too late" She argued, regretting the choice of the example. Bellamy wasn't dying and she didn't want to frighten him.

Fortunately, her little speech seemed to be boring him more than frightening him.

He sighed out loud, then he released her wrist, even if the arm of Clarke remained at his place.

"Alright, Princess. Name me one single thing I can't do, and I will go back to my bed. One single thing."  
Bellamy wasn't an idiot. He knew that nobody at the camp would let him carry a gun until Clarke gave her approval, as she was his doctor. He could still ask Abygail, but she didn't seem to like him, and honestly, he preferred Clarke's company to the awards silences or the military discussions they had together.  
He observed Clarke frown; she was thinking.  
"Raise a mass of fifteen pounds for a minute without showing the least sign of fatigue, and I will believe you."  
"No problem" He retorted in a whisper, too sure of himself for Clarke.  
He grabbed her by the hips, and he involuntary made her sleeveless top ascend of a few centimeters, revealing her navel, her pale skin and the chills that covered it. He tried to not dwell on the details more than necessary, but it has been weeks since he had seen a girl without the half of her shirt.

"Do you realize how stupid it is?"

When she had told him to raised a mass, she thought more a scrap of metal, not her.

"You didn't work out for three weeks and you might have a muscle contraction if..."

"It's cute that you think I am one of the teenagers to who you can give an order."

What was that supposed to mean?

Her breath cut off when she felt Bellamy's hands more tighten against her hips, few seconds before he raised her in the air, as if she was as light as a feather.

"Put me down! Bellamy!"Protested Clarke.

It wasn't that being carried by Bellamy wasn't nice, but if he broke an ankle, or crumpled a muscle, after all the work she had to do on him, she won't help him.

"Fifty seconds left..." he said while he tried to keep her balance, but she didn't help him.

"Why are you so stupid?" whinged Clarke

Bellamy felt a weakness in his left arm and he let her fall of several centimeters before recovering his strength and attracting her towards him, breathless. Carrying her at arm's length wasn't his best idea, but he wouldn't look weak in front of her, so he acted like it was nothing.

Clarke wrapped her arms around Bellamy's neck, hanging on to it as if it was her safety net.

"If I'm getting hurt..."She started, her voice full of undertone.

She couldn't even think about it. There were only two doctors in the camp and she was one of them.

"That won't happen. Not with me." He affirmed, offended.

"Fine" Concluded Clarke, relieved to know that her mother wasn't the only one who protected her. "Now put me on the floor" she insisted once more.

Did he hear her? His lack of responsiveness made her doubt it. She felt that Bellamy had difficulties, so she decided to do what she could for helped him, after all he seemed pretty determined to show her his strength. She wrapped her thighs around his pelvis, which would permit him to use the force of his back for carrying her. Without realizing it, Bellamy tightened their embrace and stuck his torso against her breast. The sexual tension that had always been between them seemed to the reach the limit between the signs and the words. At least, that was what he thought before Clarke started again with her advices.

"You can't ask to your body to overwork like that, Bellamy. You have to give it the time to re-adapt to everyday steps, or..."

It had been one minute, he mentally noticed, so, before Clarke could continue her little speech, he bent over towards his bunk.

"What are you doing? Bellamy!" She screamed while she grabbed his neck and the back of his hair, pulling herself closer to him than ever before.

"It's alright, Clarke, stop yelling so loudly. You wouldn't want that the totality of the camp to come here."

She stopped protesting against him, asking herself how her mother would feel if she saw her in that very particular position. She felt something sweet and soft touching her back and she immediately understood that Bellamy tried to lay her down on his bunk. She detached from him, seeing his muscles sweating because of the important effort. She let her hand fall to the sides of her body, then she did the same thing with her legs, trying to not blush when she realized that Bellamy was on all fours on top of her, but he didn't get up instantly as he was out of breath.

Once again, Clarke couldn't stop to think about what people would say if she saw them like that.

None of them moved during several seconds, until Bellamy asked the question who was burning his lips.

"So, can I have my gun back?"

Clarke smiled and sighed at the same time. What would he do without his favorite toy?

Clarke got up, forcing Bellamy to do the same, she took her jacket and her first-aid kit, then she faced him.

"No" decided Clarke categorically.

"Why?" He finally asked while she was close to the door.

She turned around towards him with a shy smile.

"We both know that carrying a weapon all day, it's more than tiring." Started Clarke. "When you would be able to use the totality of your physical capacities, you could have your gun back."

"And who will decide of the right time?" He objected.

"Me"

On those words, Clarke left the tent before she let him a chance of reply.

After all, she didn't need to change his bandages, for he needed her.

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My French readers wanted more, so they will be an additional chapter. :D


	3. Chapter 3

"No" answered Clarke sharply.

A bitter growl followed her response. Clarke raised her eyes to Bellamy while she was taking his blood pressure, pressing on the air pump, and he stared at her in return.

"Why are you torturing me like this, Clarke?" He asked pleadingly, a desperate look on his face.

She sighed. Why he couldn't see that she was taking care of him? Or at least, that she was trying. Trying to convince him to get on her table so she could examine him had been almost impossible. He'd insisted that he was fine. She disagreed.

"Excuse me. I didn't think that your little toy meant so much to you," mocked Clarke.

That wasn't right. Since the day he had taken his bandages off, he had harassed her, begging her to return his gun to him.

"It's a weapon, Clarke! More specifically, a M240..."

"Whatever," interrupted Clarke.

Clarke didn't give a damn about what kind of automatic gun it was. If she hadn't wanted to give his weapon back, it was because as soon as he had it back in his possession, he would start hunting again, and she couldn't let him get hurt again. The first wound had been sufficiently stressful, and even if she didn't wanted to admit it, she loved to be at the center of his attention. Maybe a little too much.

"No. It's no," repeated Clarke for the thousandth time.

It was Bellamy's turn to sigh. With anger, he removed the band that was tightly bound around his arm, then he slipped from the table and stood up. Clarke felt ridiculous because she was still holding a part of the pump. Bellamy looked at her severely.

"Clarke. It's been about a month since I've even needed bandages. My scars are barely visible and I'm gaining strength and muscle back really quickly. So why won't you give me my gun?"

She wanted to answer and tell him that he was wrong about her intentions and her reasoning. In fact, she was dying of desire to give him the gun, but the only problem was that she didn't have any valid points. Well, nothing but the fact that she couldn't lose the last person that she supported into the camp. She couldn't stand the idea that one of the others would come back to camp without him one day, telling a story about a gun, a bear and imprudence, or any number of dangers. Plus, she liked to be the one he needed to get authorization from.

"Medical reason" She lied.

If she remained vague, maybe he wouldn't seek further.

"For example?" He asked, skeptical, stepping towards her.

Nervously, Clarke rolled the wire of the air pump, then she turned her back to Bellamy and acted like she hadn't heard him. She arranged the things on her desk, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Well, if you don't want to give me back my gun, I will force you..." He threatened angrily.

"Because you think you can make me change my mind?" she laughed.

"Don't underestimate me, Clarke," Bellamy whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck.

Clarke instantly froze, then shook herself, trying to pull herself together. She could feel the shrinking space between them vibrating with her own nervous energy. She turned slowly towards him. His characteristic mischievous glow saturated his gaze.

"Maybe I could even surprise you."

"Don't flatter yourself," replied Clarke, trying to ignore his size and their proximity to each other.

"Let's make a deal," he said.

She arched an eyebrow. A little voice in her head whispered that wasn't a good idea.

"In 4 days, there is a new hunt trip and I want participate," he told her.

Clarke chuckled, because his request seemed improbable. Hadn't he listen to her?

"Just say that if I can make you "snap" before the day of the hunt, you'll have to give me the authorization I need."

She didn't like that, but it was the only way for her to save face.

"Deal" She approved, knowing that the next days weren't going to be easy for her.

**Day -3**

It was early in the morning, but Clarke was already in the infirmary, arranging the little stock of medical supplies that she possessed, and finishing the last preparation to greet the early arrivals. She heard the veil -which covered the entry of the tent- raise, and she swore softly under her breath, angry that she hadn't finished the last adjustments sooner.

"One minute?" she requested of the potential patient behind her.

Normally, she would have finished the preparations far earlier, but she hadn't been able to stop thinking about the deal that Bellamy had forced on her. She found it odd that he hadn't made a move since yesterday. Of course, he had looked at her with a lecherous look all day, but nothing more. Knowing Bellamy and the importance that he gave his weapon, the next part wouldn't be pleasant – or maybe it would be.

"No problem," answered a male voice that Clarke knew too well.

Bellamy.

"I didn't think I would see you so early," she commented, moving further away from the supply table. She nodded at the examination table, as if it was his first time in the infirmary.

"I wanted to see you", he answered with a smooth voice.

Clarke held in a laugh. Was he trying to woo her with these sweet words, or was this some kind of joke? Regardless, he wasn't here because he wanted to see her.

"Okay, what do you really want, Bellamy?"

He approached the table, but he didn't climbed on it, apparently preferring to stand in front of Clarke, dominating by size. As if that would impress her.

"This morning, when I woke up, I felt a pain in my back." he disclosed.

She didn't believe it for an instant.

Bellamy was a good actor, but without a good script, his game wasn't probable.

"And you still wanna go to the hunt?" she concluded, bringing to light the absurdity of the situation.

"You know me so well," he spoke teasingly.

While he talked, he came toward her, but she didn't move back, even though she knew she should. Being almost stuck against him wasn't a good idea if she wanted to think straight and win their bet.

"Whatever, I need your help for..."

"...Help?" She interrupted him, confused.

So, his tactical was to show her his weakness and let her take the control of the situation?

"Since when does the big Bellamy Blake need help?" she mocked.

"Since I can't even undress myself without a considerable amount of pain," he answered.

Clarke crossed her arms on her chest. After all, she wasn't going to undress him, even if she had already done it several times, and those experiences hadn't been as horrible as she had let on.

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, but I thought that a doctor was supposed to help...?

She sighed slowly, then she uncrossed her arms and grabbed the ends of his shirt.

"Nervous, Princess?"

She wanted to say no, but she hesitated. If she removed his shirt, he won a battle in their war, but if she didn't do it, he would think that she was intimidated by him.

"Why do you always have to think so much, Clarke?" She thought, infuriated by herself.

Without another pause, Clarke pulled his shirt off, coming face to face with his abs, then she threw it away, absent-minded, somewhere in the room.

"You know, if you want to touch them, enjoy yourself," he whispered in her ear.

"As if it was the first time that I saw them. With time, it's almost boring," she shrugged.

"Don't lie to me, Clarke. Lying is what bad girls do."

Bellamy wasn't the only one who could play at a game of seduction. That game took two players.

"And who said I wasn't one?"

Bellamy delicately took one of her golden hair strands between his fingers.

"Angel face," he whispered.

She jumped back suddenly, confused. Was this a part of their game, or was he being serious? She turned around, intentionally breaking their "special moment", and brought a bottle of sav from her reserves, then turned back and handed it to him without making eye contact.

"This is for your back"

**Day -1**

Clarke began preparing for bed in the dark of the night. She pulled her shirt and her pants off, then she slipped under her blanket.

Since the episode with the sav, Clarke and Bellamy hadn't talked or even looked at each other. Strangely, she found herself missing their stormy encounters. She knew the proverb that said "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone", but she never put it into practice.

Clarke felt a breeze pass into her tent, but she ignored it. What was Bellamy going to do next? He had already exposed his perfect body and his abs, trying to tempt her with them. Would he try to initiate physical intimacy next? Well, not that she wouldn't let him do it, but she had the bad habit of avoid him each time he made a move.

Clarke began to roll onto her side, when she was suddenly aware of another presence joining her under the blanket.

"Bellamy! Why are you here?" asked Clarke. It was as if he had read her thoughts.

After all, who else would be stupid enough to came into her bunk?

"You only wear your underwear to bed?" He teased, taking a peek.

Clarke sighed, but didn't make a move to cover herself. It was too dark for him to be able to see much, anyway.

"Why are you here?"

She couldn't see him, but she could feel him. She took a deep breath when she realized what he wanted to do. Then he was on top of her, crushing her body with his. She found that she wasn't the only one only wearing underwear.

"I'm not going to let you avoid me anymore."

So, he had noticed her bad habit...

"Are you going to sign the authorization for me? Because the hunt is tomorrow and I want to participate" He stated, going straight to the point.

"Bellamy, you can do whatever you want, invent all the stratagem you want, just don't expect me to sign it."

He growled, and his warm breath made her shiver.

"Damn it, Clarke! Why are you making my life so difficult?"

"You're right. I can't imagine how hard it should be for you to be in bed with a girl. What are you doing, becoming a prostitute, expecting to get paid for your services with your gun?"

"Don't mess with me, Clarke. Especially when you know what I'm capable of," he hissed.

She could feel his lips closer to hers than ever before, but this time, she couldn't run away from him. She was trapped. Fear overtook her; the last time she had been intimate with someone, she had finished with a broken heart. But it was time for her to face the reality; Bellamy was different, he was a man, contrary to the teenager with who she had committed one of the worst mistakes of her life. She had known him for months, and she had faith in him.

"Assume that I don't know," she whispered, half opening her lips to his.

This time, the tension between them wasn't sexual. It had been, at first, but now it wasn't about all-consuming passion or a power game, but tenderness.

Under the canopy of the deep night, she closed her eyes as Bellamy's mouth kissed hers. God, she would have give anything to see if there was a sparkle in his eyes.

Bellamy extracted himself from their kiss, and Clarke suddenly felt that he was about to leave her. The thought only lasted a moment, though. She smiled when she felt his lips on her neck, trying to shake the shameful panic that had threatened to overtake her in that moment. He hadn't gone.

"If I give your weapon back, are you going to leave me?" she panted, enjoying his radiating warmth.

"Probably not," he answered between kisses.

"Then, you have my authorization."

It was ridiculous to resist him any longer, and she finally felt like she could give to him what he wanted without the fear that tomorrow he would abandon her.

Bellamy suddenly stopped, and the terror came rushing back to her. Then, with his finger, he traced a line over her until he reached her navel. Clarke felt his brief hesitation and realized that it was her turn to make a move, to communicate. She wrapped her legs around his, crossing them on his pelvis, making their bodies closer than they had been before. He moved in, touching his lips to her shoulder.

Message understood.

**Day D**

It wasn't the arrival of the rays of the sun that woke Clarke, but the absence of Bellamy. She kept her eyes closed for a few more minutes, then raised herself up on her elbows. Apparently, she had slept with Bellamy on her side – there was still the print of his body on the mattress of her bunk. She adjusted the strap of her bra, and after a few minutes of hesitation, she pulled out of her warm blanket. Still tired, Clarke put her shirt in a hurry, once she saw the time. It wasn't 10am yet, maybe Bellamy wasn't gone. She didn't know what she would say to him, but, she would figure it out.

Clarke rushed to outside, not giving a damn about catching a pneumonia or a cold because of her lack of pants. A few people looked at her strangely, but she didn't mind. She needed to find him.

"Clarke!" Called Raven, catching her arm. "Where are you going like that?"

"I have to find Bellamy."

"Yeah, about that, I was surprised that you only give him the permission now. He looked in great shape, despite looking a little sleep deprived…"

"Wait, you saw him?"

"Yeah, he had just recovered his weapon. He's probably gone with the other hunters now."

So, he was gone? Of course, she couldn't blame him for not waking her when he left. He probably was afraid of her having a change of heart. Still, a tiny part of her wanted to know what he was doing. Now, all she could do was wait and hope that he won't be killed by a cougar.

Clarke stammered some apologies to Raven, then she turned and returned to her tent. Her mother was supposed to take the shift in the infirmary today, so Clarke had work to do, even though all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. She walked across the camp, pulling her shirt down to cover her frozen thighs.

Clarke pushed the veil of her tent and stopped dead in her tracks. There was a gun in her tent. A growl pulled her from her thoughts, and she smiled.

"Bellamy!" she gasped, moving closer to her bunk. Bellamy lay on top of her blanket, shirtless.

"You really think that I was going to leave you alone? After that night? He whispered, his head pressed into a flat pillow.

"What about the hunt?"

Answering a question with another question was her favorite reply; there was nothing better for masking her doubts.

Clarke considered removing her own shirt, but she left it on. Climbing over him, she stretched out at his side, turning her face towards him.

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I win our bet, that's enough."

Win? Clarke wasn't sure that he was the winner of the bet, but she didn't mention it, preferring to save her strength for their next fight/reconciliation.

"And, after all, there would be another one" He answered, placing his arm around her waist, burying his head into the hollow of her breast.

Well, if each time he would go to the hunt, he would be hurt like that, she wouldn't be bored for a second. As long as Bellamy would be with her.

* * *

Hope you like this additionnal chapter! And thanks to AudreyTheAwkward !


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